The Invitation
by Ice-chan Queen of Soy
Summary: Late one night, Jackie receives an odd invitation to an even odder party. Slash.


Hey y'all, here's a short story that I wrote last year and forgot about, and only just rediscovered today. I have to warn you, though, it's got some serious slash in it. Finally, I managed to write a story in which the characters do more than kiss once, though don't expect too much, I didn't really go into detail. Anyway, enjoy!  
  
Oh yes, and to those who read The Demon Within, chapter 18 should be up pretty soon—it's coming along really nicely so far.  
  
Disclaimer: Jackie Chan Adventures belongs to WB, Sony Productions and, um, a bunch of other people. Oh, and Bruce Wayne belongs to Bob Kane.  
  
**The Invitation**

by Ice-chan  
  
Sleep: a safe haven, a welcoming warmth to which one can and must escape for a little while. Often, sleep is refreshing, relieving, and, as such in the case of Jackie Chan, rare.  
  
He awoke with a start when his mind had echoed the word "rare", realizing that he had fallen asleep and that—moreover—had been *dreaming* of sleep. If that wasn't pathetic in itself, he also had to consider that this had been a recurring event for the past week.  
  
As his blurry vision settled on the huge and musty book on the desk before him, upon which, in addition, rested the sheep talisman, Jackie was once again reminded of how much he loathed these talisman adventures. Nearly getting squashed and constantly being hunted by an international crime syndicate was nothing to be cheerful about. Captain Black's refusal to recognize the magical potential of these hexagonal stones didn't improve things, nor did the fact that researching these talismans was a time- consuming project. The "chicken scratches," as Jade often called them, on the back of the talismans were so tiny and dulled by age and residue that a thousand years after they were scattered across the globe they were nearly unreadable. To make things worse, Jackie had to finish the research within twenty-four hours because Captain Black, despite being a staunch believer in both science and mere coincidence, demanded that they be kept safely inside Section 13's highly secured vault. And of course, there were his other archaeological obligations and a niece who bored easily. Perhaps the only positive aspect of this "temporary research position" was that he was getting a lot of frequent flyer miles.  
  
When he absently glanced at his wrist watch and saw that it was now ten after four in the morning, and recalling that he had been diligently working since five in the afternoon yesterday, Jackie resolved that he had earned a nap at the very, very least. He stumbled to his feet, almost tripping over the leg of the chair. Once he finished stretching and cracking his bones, he turned out the light and stumbled out of Uncle's library. When he reached his room, he was about to fall face-flat onto his bed when he felt something rough by the pillow. He picked up the object and realized that it was a card in an envelope. Slipping off his brown loafers, Jackie got into an Indian style position on his bed, and he held the envelope up to the moonlight. In neat, calligraphic script, it only read:  
  
_Mr__ Chan_  
  
Immediately, Jackie jumped to his feet and looked outside his window, frantically turning his head this way and that. But he saw nothing—only frozen shadows hiding in the dimly lit street. For what it was worth, he shut and bolted the window.  
  
Sitting back down on the bed, he stared down at the white envelope that bore his name. Whoever had sent this knew that he would be here tonight, of all nights, and knew what room he slept in. His first suspicion was that it had been delivered by a sleek Dark Hand agent or a Shadowkhan. What could it be, then? A threat? A ransom note? Jade was supposed to be sleeping in her room—was she, really?  
  
_Don't jump to conclusions,_ he tried to console himself, even though every brain cell that he owned was screaming at him that this was definitely one of the Dark Hand's schemes. Trembling, he began to fiddle with the flap, trying to be neat about getting it open, until he decided to just rip a hole. He immediately regretted it, though, recalling the Anthrax scare about a year ago; on the other hand, that hadn't been active since a year ago, was delivered via post service, and was generally intended for the attention of renowned personalities. At any rate, it as too late; he had already pried from the envelope a small note card which bore the same calligraphic font. It took several attempts for his exhausted mind to focus on the letters, but he finally comprehended the following:  
  
_You are cordially invited to the Summer Solstice Ball, _

_which begins at twenty to four _

_on the morning of 21 June, year 2003.  
  
Sweet Dreams._  
  
Now Jackie was positive that he was hallucinating. Later, after a good, deep sleep, he would call Captain Black and tell him that this research position was simply too much for him. If he didn't quit, he might wake up one morning in a straightjacket. Look at him, sitting intently on his bed, an imagined card in his tight, yet shaky grip...it was preposterous...  
  
Jackie, now quite certain that he'd lost his mind, checked his watch under the moonlight with a sort of mad amusement. Indeed, it was twenty after four on the morning of June 21st, 2003. He glanced at the card, and to his horror and amazement, watched as the ink slowly melted off the card and dripped onto the wooden floor. Jackie became aware of how very tired he was...he shut his eyes, and his body became very relaxed of its own accord; as he sank into the mattress, he thoughts grew dimmer...  
  
So did the lights. Two dim lights were lit in front of him somewhere; gradually, he came to realize that they were actually quite bright. Abruptly, his vision swam into focus: two maps were lit on a lawn, separated by a concrete path. A woman with bushy brown hair stood in front of him; chatter drifted carelessly in front of and behind him. He then realized that he was standing in a line.  
  
Jackie tried to work through this problem, having no memory of coming to this place. But there was an odd buzzing in his head, which seemed to block out a good deal of his thoughts. As the queue moved forward, Jackie tried to force his mind to work properly while he surpressed his panic, but every time he did so a strange lethargic sensation washed over him. In the midst of his confusion, he suddenly realized that he was now first in line, and that he was facing a podium that was elevated by a small dais. A slim balding man stood before it, peering down at him through round spectacles.  
  
"Your invitation, please," he asked pleasantly.  
  
Without giving it any thought and surprising himself greatly, Jackie, already holding the card with the calligraphy on it, handed it to the man. The snatched it from him and grinned deviously, and suddenly almost all of Jackie's thoughts were wiped from his mind, replaced only with a cold feeling in his bones as though he had sold his soul to the devil.  
  
"I keep this," the man grinned.  
  
Jackie's body seemed to be running on automatic; with a terse nod, he walked slowly through the double doors, which were already opened.  
  
A gasp escaped him as he found himself in the hall of a colossal mansion. Tall French windows encircled the room, terminating only at the two marble staircases on either side of the room, both of which led to a balcony. A red carpet was laid out on the marble floor, where Jackie discovered his feet and been planted. Music pulsed from somewhere. Only a few people were scattered around the room, talking airily amongst themselves. An usher with graying hair approached Jackie.  
  
He was smiling welcomingly, and Jackie felt just a tad better. "Hello, sir," he spoke in an English accent. "The ballroom is this way, if you please..."  
  
Jackie followed the usher through the wide passageway between the two sets of stairs, walking along the red carpet. It ended at another set of doors, but these were made out of some sort of strong, polished wood. As they approached, the music became louder and louder.  
  
The doors were pushed open, as though by their own accord, and the usher returned to the other room. Wandering inside, Jackie had to gasp again. Well over a hundred people were dancing to the thundering jazz music like there was no tomorrow. Jackie was almost tempted to join them, they were so passionate about this one night as if it were all that they had, but he knew he couldn't dance very well. Most of the people were in pairs, but some had formed into groups, and most of the groups were gathered round the snack bar. Jackie headed there.  
  
Even the h'ourderves, to Jackie's amazement, were lavish: he helped himself to tea sandwiches of cucumber, avocado and smoke salmon, among other things; he also tentatively spooned a bit of caviar.  
  
He felt a light tap on his shoulder and then heard, "Hey, stranger..."  
  
The voice was all-too familiar, and he was only half surprised to turn around and see Viper, her darks arms crossed, her pink lips formed in a playful smirk. Her thin frame was covered in a velvet black dress. Jackie wondered why she wasn't dancing.  
  
Apparently, Viper was thinking along the same lines: "I see you've hit the snack bar, too."  
  
Jackie shrugged. "I'm not much of a dancer," he admitted.  
  
Viper appeared not to have heard him; she was looking at the dancers, head raised as though she were looking for someone. "We're looking for our mysterious host," she supplied. She turned to look at him. "Bruce and I."  
  
Before Jackie could ask, Viper indicated to a tall, broad man standing behind her with dark hair and blue eyes. Jackie dimly recognized him as Bruce Wayne, the playboy billionaire of Gotham City. Bruce smiled politely, but Jackie took no notice. It seemed that he was here only to stand in the shadows...  
  
Viper then let out a delighted gasp, and grabbed Jackie and Bruce by their arms. "Look!" she breathed.  
  
Jackie followed her gaze and saw someone at the far end of the room, partly obscured by the shadows. Yet even from far away, Jackie noticed the man's prominent cheekbones from a side angle, his aquiline nose, and an impressive mane of white-blonde hair, which was tied back with a gold band. He appeared to have a rather exotic wardrobe, too: a coat of forest green, complete with a coat tail, was buttoned up to his midriff, leaving enough room to reveal part of a lime green tie and a black blouse. A glass of what looked like Champagne in his left hand, while keeping his right hand in his trousers' pocket, his cold pale eyes were focused on the storm of dancers. He appeared to be considering something.  
  
"Mr. Valmont," Viper whispered triumphantly. "He hosts these parties every night. Never joins in himself, just sort of...watches." She turned to Jackie, a smile playing on her face, eyes glittering mischievously. "Creepy, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah," he murmured, not really listening; he was too busy staring at the stranger. "What did you say his name was?"  
  
"Valmont," Viper replied, a trace of irritation in her voice.  
  
"Valmont..." Jackie pursed his lips, eyebrows contracting pensively. The name sounded familiar—his face looked familiar, too...  
  
His stomach suddenly twisted in a knot, and he felt sick. For one fleeting moment he realized that there was something terribly wrong with this whole scene—he should not be here—this was the wrong crowd...  
  
*You were invited.*  
  
Yes, that was true, he had been invited, yes...  
  
*You had to come.*  
  
....So he had, true enough, he did have to come, no doubt about it...  
  
*Stay.*  
  
...yes, of course, he must stay, it was only proper, but...  
  
*But what?*  
  
"But nothing," he found himself murmuring, to which Viper returned with a curious glance.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I didn't say anything," Jackie said truthfully, having just forgotten what went on in his mind. "I wish I could talk to him," he sighed.  
  
Viper smirked. "Don't we all? But he's usually taking care of calls from some of his 'clients'... Okay, so I had a brief conversation with him before," she said smugly, "but that was a while ago..."  
  
"Really? What did he talk about?" Even Jackie found his own enthusiasm surprising. His eyes were still glued to Valmont, who was now speaking briskly to a butler, eyes still moving restlessly amid the crowd. It sounded like he was giving an order; Jackie experienced an inappropriate sense of jealousy and a strange, deep contempt for the butler.  
  
"Actually, it's what *we* talked about," Viper corrected him irritably, "and we talked about books. We were in the library, what did you expect? This one book he owned, The Great Gatsby, never read it myself, but he seemed to like it..."  
  
As the butler moved away (Jackie was relieved), Valmont abruptly turned his stare directly to Jackie. Something about the look on his face told Jackie that he'd known that Jackie had been staring this whole time. A few people cut passed their line of sight, but only briefly. Jackie considered looking away, but didn't; their eyes were locked and he did not want to spoil anything. At first Jackie thought that this man looked reproachful, perhaps even offended, but then he decided that he seemed almost...*inviting.* No, Jackie was sure of it. His face was relaxed.  
  
Normally, Jackie did not initiate these sort of things. But here, it was almost as though Valmont had ordered Jackie to come...so he did. Ignoring Viper's shouts of "Hey! I was talking!" and after pushing through several people, Jackie finally reached the mysterious host.  
  
If he was impressive at a distance, Jackie decided, he was infinitely more exquisite close up. He had to be at least six feet tall, and with his broad shoulders and blank stare he was rather intimidating. Also evident were the lime green vines embroidered on his velvet coat: they curled upwards and branched out into a network of vines at his shoulders. He seemed to shine with a sort of brooding glory that Jackie could not quite place.  
  
Valmont appeared to be examining Jackie in return. Once had had finished, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly, and his eyebrows were half raised as though he were pleasantly surprised.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Chan," he spoke finally; Jackie noted that his voice was not particularly deep, but rather soft, and his English accent was faded. "There you are. I've been looking for you, you know."  
  
Jackie blinked. "You—have?" he stammered most ungracefully.  
  
Valmont seemed amused by this; his smile widened and he only raised one eyebrow. "Of course," he answered slowly. "*I invited you.*"  
  
Time seemed to freeze; Jackie stood, still as a statue, staring at the stranger, his heart pounding in his throat. Valmont held out a hand, and he took it without a thought.  
  
Suddenly, they were gliding along the dance floor, hand in hand, an arm gripping Valmont's shoulder while Valmont himself had an arm curled around his waist. Jackie had no recollection of starting to dance of when the vibrant jazz music had been replaced with the calming sounds of the violin and piano. It sounded like Mozart. He found that he was staring up into Valmont's icy eyes; they stared back, glistening almost...*malevolently.* It made Jackie nervous, and he wanted more than ever to get away from this man. But his desire to run away, like all of his thoughts and feelings regarding leaving, slowly melted into nothing.  
  
"You're awfully tense, Mr. Chan," Valmont sneered.  
  
"You're—" but he couldn't bring himself to refuse, to push away, to leave the party—"...an awfully good dancer."  
  
Valmont let out a soft laugh of cold mirth. "Why thank you, Mr. Chan...you aren't too dreadful yourself."  
  
When the music ended, the dancers dispersed, but Valmont didn't let Jackie go. His smell, Jackie noted, of the barest of a vanilla cologne, was intoxicating. Valmont pulled him closer and murmured into his ear, "Follow me."  
  
_It isn't as though I have a choice,_ Jackie noted vaguely as Valmont led him away from the dance floor. Jackie didn't resist.  
  
Outside was a garden, and it seemed luminescent with green as the plants encircled a small circular pool of water. Upon closer inspection, Jackie saw that there were beautiful snow white lily pads floating atop the black water. Around them, a few people were gathered here and there, laughing merrily; one woman even patted Valmont's shoulder and giggled incessantly.  
  
"Let's go somewhere more private," he murmured as the woman headed back to the ballroom.  
  
Valmont led Jackie to the very edge of the garden; they were concealed by a giant rosebush. From far away, another world, it seemed, they heard the merry chatter of guests as the jazz music resumed, but it didn't matter; Jackie had his head raised, his heart racing, captivated by Valmont's stoic expression.  
  
They were close now, just as they had been when they were dancing, with Jackie in his arms. Valmont's eyes, however stoic, seemed to tell a story of their own; the paleness of his blue eyes were like ice, and Jackie actually felt himself shiver, cold. They were contracted, too, so the pupils were only a tiny black dot. Jackie cryptically regarded them as being the center—the center of a circle, the X mark where the pirates' treasure was buried, the center of all things, the meaning of life itself...  
  
Everything was moving in slow motion; Valmont was clasping Jackie's hand, then he was kissing it with his warm lips, but even if he wanted to, Jackie could do nothing. He felt as though he had no mind of his own. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the stranger's, could barely blink, because he was looking directly into the universe—he could see all of the stars, planets and constellations. Utterly enchanted by this strange spell, his mind was a haze, and it felt like it was floating like a hot air balloon. His body was frozen, but it reflexively obeyed the commands that were whispered into his ear with a naturalness and grace.  
  
Now he was undressed, in a squatting position. The stranger's arms were draped around him as he nuzzled his neck. Jackie melted in his arms like ice cream on a hot summer day. He was pleasantly warm, perhaps deliriously so, but it didn't matter. He could barely hear the guests inside the ballroom now—he barely remembered that there even was a ballroom. Thorns from the rosebush pricked against his bare feet; all of his senses, touch, sight, hearing, smell and taste were enhanced, and it all made him excited. He half turned at Valmont's uttered command, enough so that he was partly facing his instructor. Valmont lowered his head and delivered a gentle kiss. One kiss turned into several, and they were all soft and warm and moist. They were not greedy; they were slow, careful, maybe even loving.  
  
They hid behind the rosebush till dawn. When the sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky with a lush pink and orange, Jackie and Valmont lay on the grass in each others' arms, counting the now fading stars. As the mystery of the night died away, Jackie had the unpleasant notion that this reality would die as well.  
  
Apparently, Valmont had the same idea. He leaned over to look into Jackie's eyes, and Jackie became delightedly, helplessly lost in the stranger's. But he did take note of some expression in them. Hooded by his eyelids and dark, thick lashes, they conveyed an air of sorrow.  
  
"I fear that it is time for us to part," the stranger announced, his voice thick and melodic. Now it was Jackie's turn to be sorrowful.  
  
But before he could speak, the stranger pressed one finger over his lips. "Hush, love. Let me explain. Tonight was the most enjoyable night I've had in a long time, and I have you to thank. But alas, all things must come to an end. What you must remember, though, is that the end—"he produced something from the inside of his forest green coat; it was a card—"is just the beginning of something new."  
  
A shadow was cast over half of his face, and his eyes were a darker blue, but just as beautiful and mysterious. A small smile—a rare gem, for very few things made him smile—formed on his lips. Jackie smiled too, and Valmont caressed his face briefly. Then he leaned over to whisper something in his ear.  
  
"I invited you here," the stranger spoke, "and even though you at first tried to resist, you can never escape or disobey me unless I give you back your invitation. Take it." The card was then thrust into Jackie's unhurried hand, and as soon as this was done, everything began to spin into a whirlpool of darkness. He could hear the music and chatter floating above him, moving farther and farther away. As he drowned completely in this oblivion, the stranger's last words rang dimly in his mind: "We'll meet again, Mr Chan—in the real world."  
  
As the sun's blinding light pierced against his eyelids, Jackie groggily came to. Groaning, he turned on his side so that he wasn't facing the light of day. He was still exhausted, as though he had awoken from a drugged sleep. Peering sleepily around his room, he momentarily forgot where he was. Then he remembered that he'd opted to spend the night at Uncle's. Why, again? Oh, right—how could he forget—he had been working on that stupid talisman. After almost twelve hours of researching, he had gone to bed. But before that, something had happened...he had found a card, an invitation...  
  
Jackie sprang out of bed like bread out of a toaster. That dream, he recalled with horror, was so vivid and real. He could remember the comfort of Valmont's velvet coat, the smell of his soft cologne, the way he himself had been so persistently obedient, how he had enjoyed every moment of it...  
  
He was about to convince himself that all of it—even the invitation itself—had been a dream, but then he became aware of something rough and thin in his hand.  
  
It was the invitation, or rather, it was the note card, and it was blank. It fluttered to ground as Jackie let it slip between his fingers. His shoulders sagged and his knees knocked together.  
  
Now, it became more urgent to quit his "temporary research position."  
  
But when he reached for his cell phone to call Captain Black, he pictured Valmont's icy eyes, and he froze.  
  
Just as he had in the dream.  
  
THE END


End file.
